


Late Night Training

by durgasdragon



Series: After the War [2]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-18
Updated: 2011-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/durgasdragon/pseuds/durgasdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seifer runs into Zell while training.  A sequel to ‘Mission After the Fact’, but can be read alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Training

**Author's Note:**

> Second in a series

**Late Night Training**

_Disclaimer: This is a purely fan-made piece that is using the world and characters from Squaresoft’s (Square Enix)_ Final Fantasy VIII _and is made entirely for enjoyment. No financial gain has been made in the making of this piece_

 _Summary: Seifer runs into Zell while training. A sequel to ‘Mission After the Fact’, but can be read alone._

 _Author’s Note: Possible out-of-characterness_

 _Constructive Criticism is always welcomed_

 _Published: 22 April 2008_

 _Rating: T_

Seifer wiped the sweat off of his brow and shook some grat guts off of Hyperion. The soft chirping of the Training Centre was only interrupted by an occasional sleepy roar of a T-Rexaur and the shuffling crackles of grats. The humid peacefulness settled over him and he took a quick moment to savour it.

Quiet moments were far and few between for him, ever since they dragged him back here from Fisherman’s Horizon. The cowardly cadets always whispered when he passed them and the stupid ones mocked him and tried to pick fights. The weight of their stares pressed down on him and silence almost never surrounded him.

They were the reason that Seifer was in the Training Centre now. He had discovered—almost by accident—that first, it was easy to give his guards the slip during the wee hours and second, there was almost no-one training from 0200 to 0400. There were no ‘accidents’ from bitter junior class men, no jeers from morons who didn’t know anything, and—most importantly—no whispers.

Seifer hefted his gunblade and went in search of more monsters. His life had turned into one boring and fucked-up mass of patheticness; it wasn’t how he wanted his life to be, but what could he do? He’d picked the losing side and life, like history, was dictated by the winners; he now had to bear the indignity of their pity and so-called mercy.

He paused and watched the water that gurgled around the rock he stood on. He entertained the idea of leaving the Garden again, but knew there wasn’t any place for him to go. The one place he wouldn’t be judged or tormented too badly wouldn’t lift a finger to keep him there when the Garden came to drag him back ‘for his own safety’.

It was disgusting; he was reduced to something reviled and not revered, forced to train when everyone else was sleeping just to keep his edge up, forever denied.

The more he thought about it, the more he realised just how much his life really—

“Argh!”

Zell hopped backwards into the clearing, clearly having lost his bearings on the mossy ground.

Not that it took the little fighter long to bounce back up and hurl himself forwards, fists flying.

Seifer rolled his eyes and decided it was too early in the morning to be dealing with the Chicken’s annoying perkiness. He slid towards the shadows, intent on leaving the little martial artists to his own devices.

He should have known better than to trust his incredibly shitty luck. He heard the grat die and then a loud ‘hey, Seif! Seifer!’ as Zell bounded over to him, all smiles and compact muscles.

“Hey Seifer!” Zell cheerfully, trying to fall into step with him. “Whatcha doin’ here this late? Or is it early? Either way, whatcha doin’ runnin’ ‘round here at this hour?”

“Avoiding chickens.”

“Asshole.” The insult held surprisingly little bite. “I couldn’t sleep, ya kno’? So I thought I’d kick some grat butt! I didn’t think I’d see anyone here, ‘cuz it’s all late an’ shit, but here you are!”

Seifer rolled his eyes as Zell bounced next to him, babbling and clearly _not_ going away. He thought about goading the shrimp into a fight, but ever since that last Mission from Hell with all those fuckin’ creeps, it had been harder than ever to get Zell to fight. In fact, Zell seemed convinced that Seifer had saved his life and thus wanted to be Zell’s friend; friends didn’t pummel the hell out each other in Zell’s book, so getting Zell to throw a punch was almost more work than the actual fight itself and thus not really worth the effort.

He didn’t know what drugs the idiot was on, but Seifer had saved no-one’s life and had no intentions of letting his favourite target become more than that—even _if_ Zell was the one of the three normal things in his life. Just because the Chicken Wuss was _ordinary_ and _safe_ didn’t mean that Seifer wanted to be _friends_ with the little ADHD brat.

Seifer Almasy did not—and _would_ not—make friends. Minions, yes; friends, no.

And Fujin and Raijin didn’t count. They were _family_.

A couple of grats attacked them and—not that Seifer would admit it—the fight went much quicker because Zell was so fast and strong.

“What the fuck you looking at?” He snapped when the Wuss kept giving him unreadable looks, something that was making Seifer uncomfortable. Zell always wore his emotions on his sleeve, so to be unable to know what the fighter was thinking was unnerving.

“You ain’t allowed to have GFs, right?”

Seifer glared and wiped the last little bit of the healing potion from his mouth. “Why, no, I’m not! Do they let little children like you play with them? You know, that’s really not a good idea to let brainless chickens have something so powerful. They might break its mind!”

Zell scowled at him. “Don’t be a fuckin’ ass, Seifer. I’ve been meanin’ ta ask you about that cover thin’ you always do. I didn’t think they gave you a GF, so I was jus’ wonderin’ ‘bout it. No need ta get nasty!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“That cover thing you always do. Like you did back durin’ that mission an’ like you were jus’ doin’ now.”

“I think you’ve taken too many blows to the head. I don’t cover for anyone.” Seifer crushed the bottle and tucked it into his coat pocket.

“You jus’ _did_!” Zell looked frustrated. “You keep steppin’ in front of me an’ takin’ th’ attacks for me! How can you say that you _don’t_?!”

“Because I don’t take other people’s attacks, moron.”

 _—is to protect—at all costs—_

Seifer bit the inside of his cheek and made himself focus on Zell’s stupidity.

“Bullshit! You took almost all of my attacks back there!” Something flickered across the little blond’s tattooed face. “You jus’ cover _automatically_?!”

 _Your place—protect me—all costs and without—will do as I—no use for—_

“Fuck off, Chicken Wuss.”

Zell—being the idiot that he was—didn’t back off. “So back in that mission, you were jus’ takin’ my attacks ‘cuz you do it automatically?” A stupid whipped puppy look settled on the martial artist’s face.

 _Your place is to protect me at all costs and without second thought. You will do as I say and will not question it. I have no use for little boys who cannot perform their simple duties._

“Seifer?”

“What, you thought I was saving your life or something?” Seifer made sure to smirk.

The kicked puppy look got more pronounced. “Well, what was I supposta think? You kept steppin’ in fronta me an’ givin’ me time ta heal us! You even blocked th’ shrapnel from that explosion! You do thin’s like that, of COURSE I’m gunna think you’re tryin’ ta save my life!”

Seifer snorted derisively, but kept his mouth shut. When the Wuss put it that way, it _did_ almost seem like Seifer was saving Zell’s life. No wonder the dumb ass had been tagging after him like some brain-dead gosling.

Seifer briefly entertained the thought of a Zell-free life. It’d be quieter, more relaxing, less irritating…

…boring, filled with more people who hated his guts, and he wouldn’t have someone to fall back on to feel normal when Fujin and Raijin were on missions.

…He really _was_ utterly pathetic.

The wounded puppy look suddenly vanished off of Zell’s face. “Oohhhhh…I get it!” He started to bounce around again.

“Do I even want to know?” Seifer grumbled.

“You don’ wan’ people knowin’ ‘bout your cover thin’!” The martial artist cheerfully informed him. “So you go an’ say you _don’t_ ta make people _think_ that you don’t but you really _do_ and you don’t like people ta kno’ ‘cuz that’d ruin your image!”

He could feel a headache coming on from trying to follow Zell’s gibbering. “Shut up, Chicken Wuss.”

“Still, I don’t get why you don’t jus’ stop coverin’ if you wanna protect your image. I mean, it’d be simpler, right?” Big blue eyes looked up at him, all questioning and curiosity, nearly covering the insincerity that hovered there. He wondered what the shrimp was anxious about because it certainly couldn’t be anything he’d done.

“I don’t cover.” Seifer repeated mechanically. He would stick to this until his dying day; the damn shrinks kept following him around, breathing down the back of his neck and trying to get him to set up an appointment and if they saw this, they would say it was a sign of how far the Sorceress’s ‘brainwashing’ had gone.

Nobody would think to ask if Seifer had any choice in the matter.

Zell’s face was uncharacteristically gentle. “Of course,” he said, strangely subdued. “Because Seifer Almasy risks himself only for himself, right?”

Seifer glared narrowly. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Zell searched his face for a moment, and then a big, genuine smile bloomed across his tattooed face and Seifer wondered if he really wanted to know what the Wuss had read in that last sentence. Zell looked like someone had just promised him a lifetime of hotdogs; there also was a disturbing warmth in there.

“But that’s what you’ve gotta _say_!” Zell exclaimed a moment later, still grinning like a moron. “How else are you gunna get ‘round tellin’ people ‘bout your coverin’ habit? You gotta say _somethin’_ ta stop people from thinkin’ you do that for anyone, know what I mean?”

“If you’re not careful, you’ll overheat the one gear you have.”

Zell had the gall to _laugh_ at him. “Bastard!” He cheerfully cuffed Seifer’s arm—probably intending it to be an affectionate swat, but damn, did it hurt! He skipped ahead a few step, then glanced back. “C’mon!”

Seifer pointedly walked a different direction.

Zell was back by his side a moment later. “Asshat. You gotta make everythin’ harder, don’tcha?”

“It’d be easier if you took the hint and left.”

“Hey, you should be nice ta me! I’m makin’ sure you don’t get inta any more trouble!”

He was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear the rational on that comment. “I doubt that. You’re more trouble that it’s worth.”

Zell punched his shoulder again. “You dumped your guards an’ if I’m here, you won’t get in as much trouble! “

“Such a model for us all,” Seifer grumbled.

The sarcasm seemed lost on the smaller man. “Aren’t I? Hey, did you know that they were planning to make the hot dogs in the cafeteria one of those things you could get 24/7 but then they said it was too expensive to do? Can you believe it?! We could be having hotdogs at any point of the day and they don’t want to pay for it!”

“The tragedy. The horror. The inhumanity.”

“Prick!” Zell seemed to pick up on the sarcasm this time, but it didn’t stem the flow of gibbering chatter out of his mouth.

Seifer rolled his eyes, but let Zell try to see if it was really possible to talk someone’s ear off.

After all, it wasn’t like he’d ever be able to stop Zell if he wanted to and right now, he wasn’t sure that he wanted Zell to stop.

He wondered when Zell stopped disturbing his peace and started adding to it, and the decided it didn’t matter. It was normal and safe and he could live with that.

_x Fin x_


End file.
